Edit Your Own Fairytale
by effulgentcolors
Summary: Based on this thumblr prompt: New employee who had a one night stand with their new boss with out knowing it. :)
1. Chapter 1

This prompt was too awesome for a one-shot so this is part 1. Part 2 coming next week. Hope you like it! :))  
A/N: Henry is not Emma's son.

* * *

He has to give it to her, her imitation of a deer caught in the headlights is nearly flawless.

"Miss Swan," he recovers first, gives a slight bow and enters all the way, closing her office door.

His grin seems to break book publisher Emma Swan out of her stupor too and her eyes narrow dangerously as she leans forward on her desk.

"What the hell are you doing here?" she hisses at him and it's nothing but threatening yet Killian cannot help the little shiver that runs down his spine at hearing her voice again.

"Well, _Swan_, naming your publishing house _Swan Publishing_ is not all that low-profile of you. I really think you should consider renaming it, if you truly want to escape any further contact with your one-night stands," he nears her desk, waggling his eyebrows suggestively. "Unless, of course, you _do_ desire… further contact."

His smirk waveres as he sees horror begin to dawn on her face. Alright, maybe creepy stalker isn't the impression he wants to give.

"I'm kidding, love, kidding!" he says quickly as Emma opens her mouth, probably to call security or tell him that she is going to haul his ass out of her door all by herself. "I work here! I'm your new editor."

"_What_?!" Emma screeches before she can stop herself.

She tries to compose herself, leaning back, closing her eyes for just a couple of seconds and taking a deep breath. He finds her clearly unsuccessful attempts to remain calm truly adorable.

"You got a job here just to stalk me easier?" she grits out through her teeth once she has managed to reign in her voice.

"What? _No_!" Killian sighs in exasperation, bloody hell, he has really messed this up. "Emma, listen."

He pulls out the chair in front of her desk and sits down, leaning forward.

"I didn't know that was your publishing house until 5 minutes ago when I opened the door, alright? You didn't even tell me your last name, I was kidding about finding you through that. I applied for this job two weeks ago, you can check my file. I was interviewed last week by this guy named David, David Nolan. I thought it went really well, which, obviously it did, so I was celebrating the night we… met."

Killian takes a deep breath, slumping back in his seat and watching her to see if she believes him. _It's the bloody truth_! For her part, Emma looks torn between calling David and just kicking him out without even checking.

"Come on, lass," he tries one more time, knowing full well that he has crossed the line with his new boss a dozen times already anyway. "You know I wouldn't lie to you."

Emma gives a little huff but her eyes tell him that he has convinced her that he is not a stalker at least.

"So _you_ are the new editor?" she asks, a skeptical look now on her face.

"Oi! What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"First of all, please, watch you language in my office, Ki- Mr…" she quickly backtracks from his name, looking down at the note in front of her where he guesses her secretary only wrote down his last name and the hour when she was to 'welcome him into the company'. "Jones."

She sounds annoyed by his name for reasons he cannot fathom.

"Second of all, it means that I will have to make sure to handle all future interviews myself."

"Well, isn't that wonderfully biased and judgmental of you," he sneered, crossing his arms over his chest. "And on what exactly, if I may ask, do you base your assumption that I'm not a good editor?"

"I-" Emma lets her sentence hang, scrunching up her brows together before giving an exasperated sigh. "Fine. You're right. I should not judge your work before I have actually had the chance to see it. So what are you working on?"

Her voice seeming unconsciously has become extremely professional and Killian is reminded of the thoughts that had been raging inside his head before he found out that his boss is the blonde firecracker he slept with a week ago. He is bloody excited. _Swan Publishing_ is one of the best publishing houses in all of Boston and he was pacing his flat all week, waiting for David to call, his frustrations only slightly furthered by the fact that a certain someone disappeared from his bed before he had even been able to wake up, let alone ask tea or coffee.

"I'm editing a book of fairytales called 'Once Upon A Time' by Henry Mills. It's-"

"Wait! Wait! Henry _Mills_?! As in Mills&amp;Gold Publishing?!"

Killian's grin falls a little. He knows that his boss might not approve of the young author who entrusted him his very first book. It is asking for trouble. Which, of course, is one of the main reasons why Killian took the project, promising Henry that they were going to get that book published and it was going to make his mother's sales look like the result of a cheap Paulo Coelho knock-off.

"Yes," he sighs eventually, scratching the spot behind his right ear. "I've been working with the lad for a month now. He's just turned 21, he's in his independence phase, wants to show his mother that he can make it on his own. If you don't wanna bump heads with Mills, I get it but you don't have any say in what I do with my personal time so I'm not going to just drop his book. I've made a promise."

When he looks up Emma seems to be sizing him up and there's a gleam of something in her eyes. If he were a more optimistic person, he would have labeled it as respect.

"Alright," she says, giving him a firm nod and them transferring her attention to her computer screen.

"I beg your pardon?"

This time he is sure what the light in her eyes is – amusement and the little quirk to her lips seems to confirm his suspicions.

"I said alright, Jones. Work with the kid, send me a fairytale or two to look at once you're ready. You said it was fairytales, right?"

"We have about five done and ready for publishing. Traditional fairytales are the base but the lad has given them all his own twist and it's quite brilliant actually. You'd never guess who Snow White and Prince Charming's daughter ends up with," he says leaning forward again, hands gesturing wildly as he talks about Henry's work.

He's invested in this project and he knows it. Thinks he will be as devastated as Henry if it didn't work out.

"Snow White and Prince Charming have a kid? Wait, no! Don't spoil me!" exclaims Emma but her eyes are bright and he can tell that he's got her _hooked_ (and laughs at his own stupid joke).

"Thank you, Miss Swan," he says with a smile that's only one third teasing.

"Don't thank me just yet. I've e-mailed David and told him that you will be tackling his wife's lasted novel as well as working on a project of your own."

"His wife?" he tries to hide his gulp.

He is pretty sure that David liked him but he's not nearly comfortable enough to start criticizing the man's wife.

"Yes, Mary Margaret. She's absolutely lovely even you should be able to get along with her."

"Ah, here we go again with the bias."

Emma shoots him a look but at his lifted eyebrow just rolls her eyes and mutters another 'fine'.

"I'm giving you a chance, Jones. Don't make me regret it," she states, something almost vulnerable flashing in her eyes.

Killian gets up, grabbing his boss's hand before she can react and planting a quick kiss on her knuckles.

"That's all I even wanted, love," he murmurs, his eyes telling her that he was talking about more than just his job.

But before Emma can snap at him for getting personal again, he's out the door and she is left with a little ball of tension in her belly.

"Ugh. Fairytales," she mutters. "Figures."

_She had just gotten rid of one pervert when she felt _him_ take the stool next to hers._

"_If you are here with a 'plan for attack', I suggest you go compare notes with that moron over there first," she shot before turning towards him._

_Oh, boy._

_Emma wasn't sure she would mind going home with that specimen of the male race even if he had the cheesiest pick up line prepared._

"_On the contrary, milady. I was hoping to partake in a dashing rescue."_

_Not a creep then. And an accent to boot. _

"_Sorry. The only one who saves me is me," Emma replied honestly because suddenly she didn't feel like playing the part of damsel in distress or ice queen in front of him._

"_I'd drink to that!" he replied lifting his glass of what she would soon find out was rum and waiting patiently to see what if she'd except his company._

_Emma clicked her glass of whiskey against his._

_From then on things escalated quickly, a quick exchange of first names, favourite bars, favourite drinks and favourite brands of chocolate let into a light, surprisingly pleasant, conversation._

_Emma did this considerably often. Well, not _this_. That was the thing, _this _was different. _This_ felt like connecting, like liking the guy. It felt like a freaking date. The thought had barely crossed her mind when she threw back her drink and asked him if they were going to go somewhere more private already._

_His eyes widened a little and reading the hesitation there Emma felt her cheeks start to burn. Had she misunderstood him? What the hell could he want from her if not sex? But the look was gone soon enough, replaced with his most 'dashing' grin and he was helping her off her stool and holding the heavy door open for her and soon enough giving the cab driver his address. _

_His apartment, for what she managed to glimpse before attacking his lips with hers, was clean yet with a slightly artistic messiness to it, lots of books, lost of flying sheets of paper, a mug of tea and a half eaten plate of cookies beside his laptop, which reminded her that his sweet tooth and knowledge of chocolate brands had charmed her way more than it should have._

_He wasn't the biggest she'd ever had and he didn't last the longest but she couldn't deny the truth – it was the best sex she had ever had. And the night was as far from a quick fuck as she had had in nearly a decade. He took his time with her and she just couldn't help doing the same. Couldn't help running her fingers through his hair, racking her nails down his sides, sucking at his pulse point and licking his nipples, nuzzling her nose in the hair that led down, down, down. And, fuck, she couldn't stop kissing him, sucking as his bottom lip and panting into his mouth, moaning his damn name._

_And afterwards she told herself that she just didn't have the strength to roll away from him or to tell him to let go of her. Surprisingly, she did have the strength to tangle her feet with his and trail her fingers teasingly over his rubs, grinning at his attempt to stifle his laugher._

_Unsurprisingly, seconds after he had muttered a soft 'night, love' and succumbed to sleep, the battle inside her began._

_Even less surprisingly, she lost. Lost to her fears, lost to her doubts, lost to the fucking voice inside her fucking head that was alternating between ordering her to run and mocking her for even contemplating the possibility of staying. And then she was disentangling herself from him, slowly, gently, with a lump in her throat, picking up her rumpled dress and soaked underwear, crawling around on her hands and knee for a couple of minutes before she managed to locate her left shoe, standing at the foot of his bed, frowning down at his gorgeous face._

_Surprisingly, she caved in, allowing herself the small victory of leaning down and kissing his cheek, breath catching in her throat when he hummed slightly and shifted a little._

_Even more surprisingly, she felt a traitorous stinging in her eyes when she closed the door behind her._


	2. Chapter 2

So remember when I posted this and promised part the following week? *nervous laughter* Almost a year later but I never leave things unfinished so I hope this is at least somewhat worth that horrendous wait!

* * *

Henry, who she has grown incredibly fond of (as if Regina Mills needed more reasons to hate her), is handling himself admirably well, signing books and flashing smiles. The kid has that addictive enthusiasm coupled with social grace and ease Emma has never been able to cultivate.

In the last 6 month 'Once Upon A Time' came into being. Not always smoothly and effortlessly but it did and now the book is already a best-seller and Emma knows there was never any doubt in her mind about it. Not when it came from under the capable and loving hands of Henry Mills and Killian Jones.

Right.

Emma's gaze shifts against her will and finds Killian engaged in a conversation with David and Mary-Margaret. The brunet throws his head back and she can hear his laughter all the way to her spot, a safe distance away from him.

Right. Another thing that happened in the last 6 months – Emma Swan fell head over heels in love with Killian Jones.

/

A bottle of beer is suddenly obscuring her view of David and MM's son, chasing his kite all over the backyard. Emma takes the drink and watches out of the corner of her eye as Killian plops down next to her on the grass.

"I could go," he says eventually, worrying the label on his own bottle. "They're your friends."

Emma sighs heavily, feeling the guilt begin to fester inside her. Is it completely illogical that she hates how decent he is (95% of the time, the other 5% he is downright indecent in his flirting and it's not like she hates that any less so)? Maybe it is. And did she overreact by storming out into the backyard when she saw him in the Nolan's living room… Perhaps. But dammit! Being around him all the time doesn't help with her 'not thinking' strategy.

Not thinking about how soft his lips are and how he looks with his cheeks all flushed and his eyes glowing with desire. Not thinking about what could have happened if she wasn't a walking, no, _running_, romantic disaster. In her defense usually she ends up running from lying, cheating, douchebags with no interests other than sex and beer, not decent, gorgeous Irishmen with a passion for books and a soft spot for rebellion kids. In his defense, well, he did end up being of the second, previously considered mythological, type.

"It's fine. They are your friends too," she mutters eventually because hell if she doesn't know how big David's guy crush on the man is and how flawlessly he and MM work together.

Killian's mouth almost falls into a little 'o', as if he hasn't been quite able to figure that one on his own, and he looks so genuinely surprised that she can't even pretend her heart doesn't squeeze in her chest. Her hand is resting on the grass, fingers almost brushing his, and she is leaning forward before she can talk herself out of not being a total bitch to the guy for once.

"So how about you help me sneak into the kitchen and hide the pumpkin pie before David eats half of it without us like every year?" she asks in a conspiratorial whisper and if her eyes flicker to his lips it is only because his smile is positively gleefully and she won't forgive herself if she misses it.

/

"We have to go to Henry's football game!"

"E-excuse me?" Emma looks up from her desk to see Killian Jones bouncing on his heels in her open doorway.

Sighing heavily, as if she is just being too difficult, not reading his minefield of a mind in 5 seconds, he enters her office properly and puts on his best 'I'm a charming Irish bookworm and you cannot resist me' smile.

Oh, no.

"Henry's first college game is tomorrow and, of course, his Evil Queen of a mother doesn't have time to go so I promised him I would and that I would bring reinforcements."

"Well, David loves-"

"I know and he was going to come but apparently Mary Margaret forgot to mention that they are visiting the in-laws this weekend so… be my savior?" he literally bats his eyelashes at her.

She will doubt the very fact that this man is made of human flesh, if she didn't have the very vivid memory of sinking her teeth into said flesh.

"Jones," it's just close enough to a whine to express her feelings and just far enough for her to be able to deny it. "I have work."

"I have work too. Henry just send me Cinderella and Pinocchio's versions."

"No update on the Peter Pan one?"

She does_ not_ pout.

"No," Killian gives her a look that tells her he knows exactly what aspect of the story she is interested in, and he wholeheartedly agrees with her dissatisfaction. "The lad is being all cryptic about it, telling me he is waiting on his inspiration to get its head out of its ass for that one."

Emma scrunches her nose but doesn't probe any further. She is not too invested in the others but if he spoils the princess and the pirate story for her, she just might fire his ass.

"When is the game?" she asks cautiously, giving him a warning look that is totally ignored as Killian beams at her.

"Saturday, 3pm, wear something blue!"

"Jones!"

He is already out of the door but pokes his head back in, an eyebrow high on his forehead, daring her to back out on him and the kid.

Ugh. Hates him! She absolutely hates him!

"They better have good hotdogs!"

/

"No, Walsh, this is your fucking-"

Emma stares at her phone, absolutely livid. The bastard hung up on her.

5 months! 5 month and she still has to deal with him! This is why Emma does not do relationships. Nothing but trouble and fixing up messes for twice as long as the whole thing lasted.

She is not quite sure how those thoughts coordinate with her stalking to Killian's office but oh, well, she is mad and needs another pair of hands and, frankly, she doesn't even think about it as she knocks on his door and opens it without waiting for a reply.

"How do you feel about emptying a bookstore instead of filling one?"

If Killian thinks her request strange, he doesn't let it show. He does however give her a onceover and it is only now that Emma realizes she rushed out of her office without her dress jacket or her freaking shoes on and remembers that she has been running her hands through her hair and rolling up the sleeves of her shirt through that whole phone conversation. She probably looks like she was just wrestling with somebody. Which – yeah, kinda.

"Now?" Killian asks, amusement dancing in his eyes but his grin is the kind of indulgent she has never been on the receiving end of so she lets it slip.

"Now."

He just nods, as if it is totally part of the job description to go off with the boss at random hours, packing and lifting books instead of editing them.

"Meet you downstairs in 15?" he asks with one more glance at her feet and Emma nods and rushes out of there before she catches on fire with the way she is blushing.

15 minutes later he is waiting in front of their office building, his sleeves rolled up and her favourite candy bar in his hand.

She tries to ignore the fact that her mind manages to immediately supply the information which one is his favourite.

/

His head shoots up at her knock and he looks so startled and disoriented that she almost feels bad. Except that she doesn't because his eyes are almost more red than blue from staring so long at his computer and his lips are chapped as if he hasn't tasted water all day (which he probably hasn't, the idiot).

"It's 11pm," she states, lifting a challenging eyebrow at him.

"Right," Killian runs a hand over his face, scrunching up his nose in a way that she doesn't find adorable and licking his lips in a way that doesn't make her think about said lips between her thighs less than 4 months ago.

She expects him to switch off his computer but he just digs the heels of this hands into his eyes and pushes up at his eyebrows as if forcing his eyes to stay open. And, yeah, okay, that is totally adorable. Also – hell no.

"Jones?"

"Huh?" he focuses on her again and Emma sighs, realizing that she will have to take charge or he will probably just sleep on his desk and pretend he got in early tomorrow morning.

Which is how she finds herself stalking over to his computer, hitting save on the word document he is staring at and switching off his computer in a few rapid movements.

"Oi! I wasn't done with that!"

"Yes, you were," she declares without sparing him a glance as she goes to the coat rack and throws his leather jacket in his face.

Killian mutters a few things that she is pretty sure most people would fire him for (well, no, most people wouldn't be in this position to begin with, quite happy to let him work himself out of his mind, but that is besides the point) but he puts on his jacket and grabs a couple of folders from his desk before following her out of the door.

"Food?" she asks once they step out onto the sidewalk in front of _Swan Publishing_'s main entrance.

"Huh?" he frowns again.

Oh boy, she knows it's bad when Killian's vocabulary is reduced to about 4 'words'.

"Have you had any today?" she enunciates as if talking to a child and sighs in exasperation, giving him an impatient look, hands on her hips.

How the guy manages to survive on his own is beyond her. Chocolate and the drafts of a barely-not-a-teenager are not a proper diet even in her fucked up routine.

"Ummm," Killian runs his hand down his face again, shaking his head as if to clear it a bit, and finally gives her a sort of articulate response. "I had breakfast and… somebody brought coffee…"

Emma massages the bridge of her nose in an attempt not to yell at him.

Henry is working on his last fairytale and Killian has been going over the whole thing again to make sure everything was ready for publishing. He has been doing a damn good job too. Of editing that is, not eating.

"David," she says through gritted teeth. "David brought you coffee and Mary Margaret's notes on her latest chapter."

"Oh, I finished that! It's bloody brilliant, I love how she has developed some of her secondary characters, gives a more solid background and a great foundation for the-"

"Killian!" she swears her smile is not indulgent, most definitely not. "Enough books. Time for food."

"Right," he grins a bit sheepishly at her, scratching at the back of his ear and shuffling his feet and she swears she hates this idiot.

As in not at all.

"I'll look into that," he says, dipping into a slight bow which he does every time they part ways and _oh, hell no_.

"Yeah, no, you won't," states Emma matter-of-factly, grabbing his elbow before she can talk herself out of it and dragging him to the nearest open Chinese restaurant.

/

"What the hell do you mean he is not including it?!" she yells and hopes Killian had the foresight to draw the phone away from his ear.

"Swan, believe me, I'm just as upset as you are but…" she can literally hear him dragging his palm across his face. "The book is going to be great anyway. There are no loose ends and-"

"That's not my problem!"

"I KNOW! Okay?" Killian sounds as exasperated as she feels.

Good. They have been in this together from the start, acting like fangirls whenever Henry added even a smidgeon to the story that he is now completely writing out of his book. What the hell?!

"Then you should also know that's the best story in the whole book!"

"I think we might be a bit biased," he mutters and she is just about to argue when he continues in a placating and calm tone that she cannot achieve right now if her career depended on it. "And you know that the whole book is bloody brilliant and it's going to be just fine. So, much as I loath to say it, we have to move past out personal preferences. The author is king and all that."

"King, my ass! I'm the one publishing his book!"

"That you are, Swan," he says and ugh, damn him for making it sound like she is doing this amazing thing and making her feel bad for losing it like this.

But _come on_! It is the best story ever! (And Emma has read plenty.) And for some reason this is hitting her hard, too damn hard. She has become too invested in these characters and their happiness and now that's it? That's how it ends? Not even tragically but just… nothing. As if they never existed, as if their love was just a fiction… She snorts.

It IS fiction, Emma. Jeez!

"Did he say why?" she mumbles eventually, already on the way to hanging up.

"He said the princess wasn't ready yet." Killian's voice is perplexed yet on the verge of suspicious and-

She hangs up before he can say anything else and stares hard at the phone in her hand.

"Dammit, kid!"

/

A glass of champagne is suddenly obscuring her view of a little redhead giggling down at Henry as he signs her book. She takes it, trying to suppress her smile.

"We did it," his voice is teasing in her ear, his breath warm on her neck and Emma turns around before she does something worse like lean back into him.

"You and Henry did it," she says with a pointed look.

Killian promptly rolls his eyes.

"Give yourself some credit, Swan. Not everybody would've had the guts to go against _Mills&amp;Gold_ like that."

Emma shrugs off the praise, even as it settles softly beneath her breast, where she suspects all of his compliments linger and pick her up when she needs it most.

"Ruffling Regina's feathers was just the cherry on top."

"Oh," Killian bites down on his lip, grins and steps closer and she swears in seconds her whole body is tingling. "Was _that_ the cherry on top?"

His eyes twinkle teasingly and his tongue peaks out to smooth over the little indent his teeth left on his bottom lip and they are in the middle of a huge, fancy bookstore and there are tons of people around and she is his boss and God, he is too-

Emma grabs Killian's loose tie and pulls his lips down to hers before she drives herself insane. Hot, fast and explosive. And then she is pulling back and looking up at him, breathing heavily and wondering how the hell she went half an year without doing that again.

"We should say goodbye to Henry," she whispers as he opens his mouth and she doesn't know if it's because she knows what he is going to suggest or because she fears it won't be what she desperate wants.

"Lass, he is surrounded by young girls, clutching his first best-selling book to their chests and thinking he is the lost Grimm brother."

She snorts and the hand still clutching his tie spreads out over his chest.

This time around everything is more intense, more vivid, more _everything_. His fingers playing with the zipper of her dress for an _eternity _before pulling it down, digging into her hips just hard enough to let her know he can't believe they waited so long either, slipping inside of her sure and fast and so so good, tangling in her hair and angling her head so that she can just catch the flash of his smile and the reverent blue in his eyes just before crashing all around him. Her mouth leaving sloppy kisses on the insides of his thighs as she makes her way up up, sucking at his earlobe as she whispers in his ear how good he looks in a suit and how she dragged him away so that Henry's fans would stop ogling the fucking editor, _her_ fucking editor.

/

Two years later she has her feet up on their coffee table, littered with sweets, Henry's new book propped up on her slightly swollen stomach, and she is shaking her head at his eloquent inscription.

'Thanks for getting your heads out of your asses! xx'

A cup of hot cocoa is soon obscuring her view of the page and as Killian plops down next to her, she hands him the book and makes him read it to them again even though she knows the story of the princess and the pirate by heart.


End file.
